


Servus

by Delphi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roman, Class Issues, M/M, Slavery, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-05
Updated: 2011-09-05
Packaged: 2017-10-23 11:16:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphi/pseuds/Delphi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus Sentius Princeps finds satisfaction in his patron's house, in a manner unbefitting a Roman citizen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Servus

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2011 round of Kink Bingo. Kink: "Historical Roleplay"

“I won't keep you, Severus,” his esteemed patron said, withdrawing. “I'm certain you're eager to get started on the addition to the shop.”

Severus Sentius Princeps straightened from his position over the desk and arranged his clothing. His lip curled, but fortunately, the heavy folds of his toga easily concealed his erection.

“Of course,” he said, taking the purse of coins from the desk and nodding respectfully to Apis, who had already returned to his seat with a stack of tablets and an air that suggested that Severus had already left.

He took his leave with the money. It would pay for further storage at his apothecary, which he rented from his patron at substantial profit to them both. If he were sensible, he would proceed straight to the market to contract the builder that Apis had recommended, and he half-convinced himself that he would do so.

Still, flushed and restless, he did not exit the house through the courtyard and into the street, but rather went out the way he had come in, which took him past the kitchens where Argus, Apis's steward, was still overseeing a delivery of wine. He caught the man's eye as he passed, and then behind him heard Argus kick one of the kitchen boys and bark at him to take over. Footsteps followed him at a discreet distance out into the yard and then into the shed behind the stables.

It was dark inside when Argus pulled the door shut behind them. Only a few slats of light shone in around the door, and Severus stayed well away from them, preferring the blindness of shadows.

“Left you half-done again, did he?” Argus asked, too forward as always, as though he were still addressing the little freedman's son who had spent childhood hours underfoot in the kitchens rather than a full Roman citizen.

Severus was in no mood to take the time to upbraid him, however. “Shut up and get me off,” he said, planting his hands against the shed wall and bending at the waist.

Argus could think what he wanted, but it was a mark of respect that a man such as Albus Julius Apis would not expect a spending from their transactions. Severus was no longer a florid youth but a grown man, and it would be humiliation atop humiliation to acknowledge or even insinuate that he took any pleasure in being sodomized.

That was what made this even worse. He shut his eyes tightly as Argus's rough, knowing hands slipped unerringly under his toga. They caressed his chest and stroked his cock back to full ardour. Then thick fingers pressed at his entrance, which opened easily, slick with oil and Apis's spending.

He could have ordered Argus to suck his cock, and he sometimes did. For possessing such an ill-speaking mouth, Argus knew how to put it to good use. It was likely the Greek in him, Severus supposed. So too could he have ordered Argus to bend over, to let Severus use him any way he saw fit. He did not, however. He said nothing, holding himself out like a bitch in heat until he felt Argus's cock rubbing against him.

It was soft at first—big even so—but it hardened quickly as Argus frotted against him, murmuring inanities in his ear. “Always so wet for me, ain't you...all hot and slick and ready to go...”

“Shut up,” Severus spat, and then his breath caught in his throat as Argus pushed into him.

Even freshly fucked, even having been in here dozens of times before, he found the stretch of it almost too much to bear. Greek or not, Argus had a barbarian's cock, long and fat as a satyr's, with a thick vein that rubbed just right inside him.

“Hurry up, you son of a goat,” he whispered harshly, even though he was still struck breathless, his body struggling to accommodate the violation.

Argus entered him slowly, forcing Severus open even further, pushing until Severus could feel the thicket of hair and press of stones against his backside.

Only then did Argus give him what he'd asked for, sparing a few slow thrusts to get his blood up and then fucking him so hard that Severus feared his bones might come loose.

“Yes...” Severus hissed and then braced his whole forearm against the wall, sinking his teeth into the thick wool of his toga to keep himself quiet. The smack of Argus's stones against his buttocks was dangerously loud to his ears, as was the squelch of oil, but then Argus's hand found Severus's prick and started pulling him off in time with his thrusts, and then all Severus could hear was the grinding of his own teeth and the desperate pounding of his heart.

It was not meant to last long. Theirs was the coupling of animals, brief and frenzied. Severus shut his ears against the accusations whispered in his ear—tart, trollop, hungry little whore—and shut his mind to the almost tender tone in which they were delivered. He shut out anything but the hand on his cock and the cock in his arse, and the pungent smell of their mingling sweat, and the rasp of heavy breathing in his ear.

“Ah!” he cried out, one short, sharp betrayal of a sound as he came all over Argus's demanding hand in three hard spurts.

His teeth nearly rattled as Argus quickened his efforts to get his own pleasure while he still could. Fingers dug into his hip, and the slap of their bodies moving together grew louder, and then he felt the hard, shuddering jolt of Argus's spending.

“This what you wanted?” Argus gasped in his ear, his hand still on Severus's cock, stroking him, keeping him hard, begging for every drop. “Tell me you want it...”

Severus had no intention of doing any such thing. When Argus had pulled out of him, leaving him wet and sore and open, all he could say, wearily, was, “Fix my toga.”

Some minutes later, when he was sure he could walk without attracting curiosity, he was back on his way to the market. The streets were busy, but those with sense stepped aside for him—a sharp, serious man in an impeccably folded toga with a fat purse in hand. This was the image of himself he secured in his mind, and he imagined it painted on a fresco, chiselled into stone like the bust that would surely someday adorn his study. He walked like the upstanding citizen he was, and as Apis's house disappeared from sight behind him, he made believe that he could not feel the seed of a slave dripping down his thigh.


End file.
